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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367803">Born to a world of White Roses and Songbirds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christella123/pseuds/Christella123'>Christella123</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The White Rose Series [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hunger Games</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:27:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christella123/pseuds/Christella123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss has entered 13 after the explosion of the 75th Hunger Games Arena, without her husband, Peeta Mellark. Because the broadcast of her little girl’s birth was not shown during the games and kept a secret, the whereabouts of her baby girl is unknown. A year passes, the war continues and the Capitol is still at large. Katniss begins giving up hope that she will never see her husband or daughter again.. Far away from 13 in the Capitol, Snow is watching and waiting. Moves and Countermoves. Playtime is over, the games have only just begun...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peeta/Katniss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The White Rose Series [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Songbird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Katniss<br/>
Everyday the thoughts of my family consume my mind. I labour through my chores in District 13, eat the food and try to smile. Stay strong for Prim and stay strong for my mother. I know they worry about me, and I can tell the news about baby Rue hurt Prim just as much as me. But she refuses to give up hope. My Primrose in a world of darkness. She thinks my baby is still out there and that one day, we will be reunited. I want to believe her, more than anything, but the barrel of thoughts in my head, the cruelty of the capital, stop me from even considering it truth.<br/>
Peeta would know what to say. He always knew what to say. Some positive remark or clever anecdote. He would stay with me through the nightmares in which my baby is ripped from my arms and Snow is there with the sickening smell of white roses engulfing the nightmare that I awake from, screaming and reaching for the husband who is not there, who has not been there for a whole year. I thought time could heal. That it would get easier, but it hasn’t. Finnick is just as sick with worry for Annie as I am for Peeta and we confide in each other. Share our pain when we know no one else can comprehend what we feel.<br/>
Gale has been there. But his thoughts are wild, of revenge and anger. I understand him, when I think of my arrow piercing Snow’s heart and that reign of the sickly white roses finally coming to an end. It is the only thing that drags me out of bed in the morning.<br/>
I pull myself from bed and check my list as to what I have today. Breakfast first. I quickly plait my hair and wipe the sleep from my eyes as I slide open the door and walk towards the dining halls. When I reach them I glimpse Gale sat on one of the tables and immediately go to him.<br/>
“Good Morning Katnip,” he says. He used to ask me how I slept, but after the empty replies and lies of the last year. He has learned it is not worth it.<br/>
“Good Morning,” I reply. And sit down with my breakfast tray. We begin eating in silence. I absentmindedly watch the TV screen, bringing in footage from the capitol. There is a little girl on screen, dressed in white, holding a bouquet of white roses in one little hand as she sits on the floor. The screens pans to Snow sat behind her with the words, ‘Peace not War. Trust the Capitol’ behind him. The poor little girl. She must only be 1 or 2 and already subject to the horrors of Snow. I turn away and carry on eating my measly breakfast. Suddenly I hear the blaring of the capitol anthem from the TV’s in the room. It isn’t unusual to hear the capitol TV news briefing and it usually spurs the dining room into hysteric ranting about the capitol which I don’t feel I can deal with today. I am about put my tray away and leave when I hear a familiar voice echoing from the screen. I stop dead. I turn towards the screen and he is there. My legs go weak but I feel Gale come up beside me to support me before I collapse.<br/>
“Peeta.” I whisper. “He’s alive.”<br/>
He looks so weak. The gaunt cheekbones pull into the side of his face. Peeta. My Peeta. What have they done to him. He looks broken. I can barely glimpse the strong boy that was with me in the games, who held me at night when my nightmares dragged me screaming from sleep. He lifts his hand to push a stray strand of hair from his face, the same hands that threw me the bread when I’d lost all hope, and created so much beauty at the bakery, now reduced to skin and bone. I choke on my breath. He’s talking, but I can barely hear because I’m just focused on his face. I catch snippets. Rebels. Lay down weapons. Peace. Stop. War. The people around me begin to shout and swear at the screen. I don’t understand. How can they shout at Peeta?<br/>
“Katniss, he’s asking us to lay down our weapons and stop fighting.” I hear Gale say beside me. I know he isn’t among the voices hurling abuse at Peeta, but I know the thoughts that run through his head are similar. It dawns on me.<br/>
“Gale, he doesn’t know about District 12.” He looks at to me. Realising too. We both stare back at the screen, the voices of those around us drowning out anything else he is trying to say. We have to get him out, before it’s too late.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Blood Rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the Capitol Snow sits before the cameras. He smiles. The plan is finally coming together and soon the songbirds pretty melody will be snuffed out.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Snow: <br/>The camera cuts off. I sit back in my chair and look at the little girl in white. Tristesse grips the roses tightly in her fist and a thorns pricks her finger. I lean forward and catch the drop of blood that threatens to ruin her white dress with my handkerchief. She doesn’t cry, but drops the roses to the ground. I’m taking a great risk putting her on the camera, whether Katniss Everdeen has noticed her daughter will determine her next moves, and therefore my own. Moves and countermoves. Tristesse now begins to cry out. Olive, my assistant stoops down to pick her up and take her for feeding. I watch them go. Her blue eyes filled with tears are fixed on me as she is whisked around the corner. There is someone I need to visit. <br/>He’s still wearing the white gold trimmed suit I had made for him. He looks gaunt through the cell window, the reflection of his face in the glass stretching his face more than the hunger and desperation has. I press in the code and enter the cell. He sits on the bed turned away from me, he hears me come in but does not turn around. I close the door behind me and look at him. <br/>“You did very well in the interview today. Very convincing.” He still stares at the white walls. In his hands I see the white rose that was pinned to his lapel. He’s running the rose through his fingers, just missing the thorns. I watch him for a few minutes. The white walls seem to echo the silence, it reverberates around me, deafening, yet dangerously quiet. I walk towards him and pluck the rose from his hands. He still does not move. <br/>“I need you to do the same again Peeta. The Districts are no longer listening to us. They only echo the voice of rebellion now, the voice of Miss Everdeen. You may think you are doing this out of your noble to desire to protect, but I know deep down you don’t like violence Mr Mellark, we both know this war will end with every rebel and their families’ head upon a pike to remind them of the horrors of rebellion, and Miss Everdeen will be the last, the last hope, snuffed out. The little songbird will sing no more. And you will watch Mellark, watch as I tear apart the world you knew like the rebels tore apart mine.” He finally speaks,<br/>“You’re sick and twisted.” <br/>“But aren’t we all?” I reply, “just a little bit.” He doesn’t reply, so I smile and press on. <br/>“Mr Mellark. You may think what you did with the berries was a selfless action. Heroic even. But that action inspired rebellion. Those rebellions inspired death of those who defy the capitol. You think your little nightlock act would only have consequences for me? You begun this, when you picked up those berries and pulled them towards your lips you begun this. You inspired the hope that brought so much death.” <br/>“Stop” he whispers. I begin speaking louder. <br/>“If you’d eaten those berries Mr Mellark you would have died. You would have only murdered yourself. But now. Now you are responsible for thousands upon thousands of murders for your actions. Are you ashamed?”<br/>“Yes.” <br/>“You and Miss Everdeen are murderers, but her actions continue to bring death and destruction. You are married to a murderer Peeta Mellark. ARE YOU NOT ASHAMED?” He looks at me. Confusion clouding his face and looks to the ground muttering, <br/>“I’m married to a murderer.” “I’m married to a murderer.” “I’m married to a...” <br/>“Now Peeta. In a weeks time we have another interview for you. You are to repeat the message of peace. Tell them to stop fighting. This violence will not end well for any of you. Do you understand?” I see him give the faintest nod, still confusion blinds his eyes and he stares at the floor. I nod, and turn on my heel and leave the cell. The doctor stands there, clipboard in hand. <br/>“It’s perfect,” I say to her, “Continue with the trackerjacker injections.” I hear the cell door reopen and I walk away to the sounds of Peeta screaming out, but he no longer screams out for Katniss... now he screams out for his daughter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. To wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Katniss has seen Peeta on the monitor and after filming the propo in 12, awaits more news on her husband.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m so sorry for the late chapter! The last few weeks have been mad but I’m gonna try  and do another chapter ASAP! Thank you for all the support!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Katniss </p><p>Tonight I can’t sleep. I wish I could claw out of the bunker and see the light of day again and run back home to hunt with Gale back into the forests in 12. But I know now this is my new normal. I roll out of bed and look at my wristband. There are a list of things I am meant to do, but I don’t have the will to do them. Thoughts roll over in my head one by one. Peeta. Cinna. Johanna. Snow. Snow. Snow. Peeta...</p><p>Sometimes I want to tear my memories from my brain and scatter them in the wind so I don’t have to feel the sharp pain of regret when I think of Johanna, the awe and wonder for Cinna, the burning hatred for Snow... and Peeta. I still don’t know what I feel when I think about Peeta but my body, from head to toe, feels lighter and I feel whole again. I decide to read instead, Prim has found a book that she lent me called, ‘Sense and Sensibility’. Prim tells me that it’s a beautiful story and so cleverly written but I don’t really get it. She tells me it’s about common sense and emotionality and how one chooses their husband because it is sensible and the other because they truly love them. I said I would read it for her sake. She’s been busy down at the hospital while I’m sat here, with the mentally disorientated wristband digging into my wrist, trying to understand the words on the page before me. I’m about to finally turn the page when I hear a knock on the door, it’s Boggs.</p><p>“Beetee’s about to try and broadcast the propo if he manages to get into the Capitol system. Are you coming?” I sigh and throw the book to the end of my bed. I wasn’t getting anywhere with it anyway. I follow Boggs up to Command and slide in next to Plutarch and Finnick. </p><p>Beetee seems to be concentrating on a complicated program and everyone else seems to be intently watching the screen. Why the Capitol feels it needs to make everything white is beyond me. The same girl I saw at Peeta’s interview is again on screen, this time Snow is playing with her. The voiceover calls for peace for our children’s future, but how can there be peace for our children that are reared for slaughter. My daughter would have grown up in this world of destruction and hatred. It is in moments like this I am almost glad she is lost so she does not have to grow up in this world of suffering. I can’t even think about her. She is in my every thought, yet I cannot think of her, it would break me. The silence stretches on and I’m starting to regret coming up when suddenly, BAM. </p><p>“He’s in!” exclaimed Plutarch and sat forward in his chair. I hear the blast of the Capitol theme before an interview and all of a sudden he’s there again. He looks so sickly I have to clasp my lips together to stop crying out. His face gaunt, stretched and pale. I can barely cope looking at him like this. He’s speaking again, ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire and then I’m there. In District 12. Clip after clip show again and again. Peeta leans forward to look at the monitor, tears shining in his eyes as they do now in mine. But his face is pure stone. <br/>“Katniss, this will not end well for any of you. Not in the districts, not in 12, not in 13. Katniss you will be dead by morning, dead by morn-“ <br/>“STOP THE CAMERAS,” Yells a hissing voice, I know too well as President Snow. <br/>“No,” says Peeta, as the guards approach him, “Please don’t hurt her, God please don’t hurt her, No, NOOOO,” The first guard punches him and he goes down and his blood splatters the floor. The monitor cuts back to commercial and the happy baby girl smiles at the camera. Peace, for our children’s future.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who’s left Kudo’s or read so far. I’m on holiday so trying to write when I can. It honestly makes me so happy when I see a notification saying someone appreciates my work. I hope I can do the story I want to share justice. Thank you for all your support x<br/>Christella123</p></blockquote></div></div>
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